Enter Sweet Sounds
by ginger204
Summary: Vanya is the village healer on an sland called Erys. Erys is a seemingly peaceful community with a strong pacifist philosophy. Vanya is confident in her leadership capabilities until a certain temperamental fire demon comes to interrupt Vanya's way of life and the shadows of a deep-seeded corruption begin to awaken within the land.


For those of you who may think this story sounds familiar, it's because it is. I have rewritten certain parts of it that I will start to republish. I took a long break from this story because I reached a pretty bad writer's block and I just wasn't happy with it. In the future, I may start publishing stories for The Walking Dead and Spirited Away as well. I know it's an odd combination. :P I apologize for my extremely long hiatus and without further adieu, I present my first rewritten chapter of "Enter Sweet Sounds." Reviews are also much appreciated. :D

It had been many years since I had talked to anyone from the outside. I knew only how old I grew by the pear trees from the orchard that I had planted the first year I came to be trained under Saho. The trees were just short stalky sprouts protruding from the ground when I first planted them as a little girl. But they were now unrecognizable from the seed they had been borne from. They produced fruit every summer season and their branches were lean and supple. I could feel the energy pulsing through their veins when I held my hand out and the sensation gave me comfort. A person of average height would have had no trouble picking the oranges from the branches, however, I could not afford such a luxury.

But I had advanced in power, ability, and spirit through out the years. Living on Erys Island does that to anyone. The divine energy that permeates through out the island had the effect of making even the meekest person strong willed and powerful, if they were chosen by the spirits as I had been. As a little girl I had been stranded on a plank after a storm at sea. I had not died along with the other passengers and instead Erys had manifested itself before me. My memories up to that point had become distorted like the remains of a past life. Nothing was important before arriving on Erys. It would continue to bring me further until one day I would reach my full potential. I would ripen in my own sweet mirth and then rot, as was in the nature of the cycle.

I continued filling my basket with fruit when I heard a loud and nasty crack in the air only a short distance from where I was. It brought back faint and troublesome memories of the time before I had come to the Island. From when I was a little girl cupping my hands over my ears at a rally with fireworks going off around me and another time when I broke my arm from falling out of a sycamore. I grimaced and looked above me through the linear space between the rows of branches to see a trail of black and purple smoke that cut the sky in two. I gritted my teeth. I had suspicions of what this could mean. It meant outsiders. I was not so ignorant that I remained unaware that while my people chose to live in the cycle of a divine power, there were still many others on the outside who chose a more destructive form. I knew of their treacherous ways. How they believed they could dominate over life and wield the power of death to their own liking. How they used it to kill each other in large explosions and pelting deadly fast flying bits of rock and steel. My own people had forsaken such powers eons ago. No one but a foreigner could make the mistake of showing such a blasphemous gesture on our land.

I heard a footstep behind me. I turned to find Saho's messenger Mina approaching.

"Vanya," she said, "Did you see that thing in the sky?"

"One would have to be deaf and blind not to notice it, Mina. I suppose Saho wants me to investigate."

Mina shrank back at the reproach. She was a very sweet girl and very kind, though unsure of herself and lacking in common sense at times. She nodded at my assumption and my expression softened. She was still young. Only thirteen. I knew that I could be a bit patronizing at times to people less experienced and I mentally scolded myself for poor manners. Yet, I thought, I had many more responsibilities and less kind words to live with when I was her age.

I sighed, "No bother. Just take care of the fruit harvests while I'm gone," I instructed, handing her the basket.

The trail down to the beach was winding and long. I had to step over tree roots and pull branches back along the way. Twice I had to pick rocks out of my sandals. I was certain that by the direction the smoke had been moving I could guess that whatever it was had been heading toward the beach. Soon the trail lead to a clearing with a cliff that gave a good view of the stretch of sand below. A crowd had gathered in the wake of the unusual smoke stream. All of them were whispering and staring at a scene I was unable to witness myself. A couple of people noticed me coming and stepped aside out of respect. The rest I had to push through.

"Step aside!" I implored, "I am under orders of the Elder."

I carried my voice with more authority than I intended. A couple women in the crowd gave me dirty looks. They knew I was mentored under Saho, everyone did. It was also common knowledge that I would take the place as Elder when Saho died. I had already proven myself last spring. This inspired jealousy among the women in my village which troubled me often. I ignored the rude women and made my way to the edge of the drop off.

The scene below was the last thing I expected to see. Most of the smoke had not dissipated into the air. It remained as a thick black trail thickening into flames that I could hear crackling in the distance. There was no sign of debris but when I squinted my eyes I could see a form laying motionless in the flames. A sudden breeze stirred the flames and revealed a heap of black clothing.

"There's a person in the fire!" I shouted, trying to remain calm, "Somebody help me! Quick!"

But I did not wait for volunteers. I grabbed the hand of the nearest person I could find and dragged them, running down the ridge. The heat of the fire radiated with increasing fury the closer I traveled until I could finally make out the suggestion of hair and bandages bound tightly around the arms, that for whatever reason, had not shriveled into ash. I took off my outer garment and soaked it in the waves. I turned to see the boy I had grabbed kicking sand on the fire to staunch the flames. I smirked, grateful that I had chosen someone clever who could keep their head. I took my wadded up dress and threw it over the body, beating the flames out. Twice I burned myself on the arms but I did not care. The boy took his tunic off and trailed it in the water, ran back, and wrung it out over the flames. Together we put the fire out until there in my arms was a young man still smoking and smelling of putrid ash, soggy and covered in sand from our attempt at rescuing him. I knew that the likelihood of anyone surviving those temperatures was close to impossible. Yet I could still sense his energy; it had not passed on. It was barely there, just a faint occasional throb that I could feel from his core. His skin was not burned away and blistered like I expected, but only slightly red and sooty with some unexplainable cuts and bruises. As unlikely as it seemed, the overcoat that he was wearing was only slightly charred. I turned him over on his back. I gasped in horror upon examining his body. This man had been bludgeoned and there was a deadly gash in his abdomen. I was sure he would never survive from it. I removed his cloak and tore through his shirt for a closer look. It was at least two inches deep. I grimaced.

I looked into the face of the person before me. He had a hard young face that was twisted into a scowl with jet black hair that stood on end with strange white streaks in the front. I put my ear to his chest. He had no heart beat. I began to pound his chest, trying in vain to induce a rhythm. I put my ear to his chest again. Nothing. But then the stranger's brow furrowed slightly and a deep low growl emanated from his throat. I blinked. How could this be? Alive without a heart beat? Surely there must be something wrong with my hearing…

"He's in a coma," I said, coming to my own conclusions, "We need to get him up and bring him to a bed."

"You can use my horse," the boy offered.

I looked him in the eye. He had kind and eager eyes and he stood bent over the young man's body in worry and compassion.

"You are very generous," I told him, "I am grateful to you."

Within minutes the boy retrieved his chestnut mare and we both lifted the stranger on to the saddle. Realizing how tiny I was, the boy put his hands together and helped me make a step up and heave onto the horse. With a quick jab of my heels I was off to Saho's shelter at the foot of the tor.


End file.
